


Kissed

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:02:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21927133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Frodo applies lip-gloss.
Relationships: Frodo Baggins/Sam Gamgee
Comments: 9
Kudos: 70





	Kissed

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Tea always tastes better when it’s tasted in Bag End, especially when it’s served by Frodo, and he brings it over to Sam at the kitchen table. He sets the blue clay mug atop a matching plate, and Sam chimes, as always, “Thank you.”

“It’s no trouble,” Frodo tells him, but to hear Frodo say it, nothing’s any trouble. Sam’s old gaffer always complains when anybody pops by for tea uninvited. Not that Sam wasn’t invited. But he definitely did hang around the garden a little longer than necessary after his shift in the hopes that this would happen. Then Frodo opened the round door and ushered him inside, and Sam secretly swooned, because this is just what he wanted. 

It’s just as delightful as it always is. He wraps both hands around the cup and feels the heat creep into him. He particularly enjoys these times at this time of year, when the garden’s mostly cold and frozen over, but then, he always enjoys Frodo’s company. Frodo sits across from him, lightly sipping at the chamomile blend and licking his lips more than usual. Sam can’t help watching every little movement—Frodo’s pink tongue traces them slow and steady, making them look so very _soft_. Sam’s often wondered if Frodo would feel as much like flower petals as his colouring is reminiscent of them. Everything about him is so bright and vibrant, and it’s very difficult for Sam to look away. 

He can’t even do it when Frodo catches him looking. Just for an excuse, he asks, “Are they chapped, Mr. Frodo?”

“Yes,” Frodo sighs. It’s a common problem for winter in Hobbiton. But Frodo perks up and notes, “Oh, that’s right... the dwarves did give me something for that on their last visit...”

The _dwarves_. Frodo’s so magical. Sometimes it feels like he has friends from halfway across the world. Maybe he even has a little Elven blood in him. It would explain his slender build and his perfect singing voice—Sam imagines only elves sound as lovely as Frodo. 

Frodo pushes back from the table and goes rummaging through a few boxes lined on the nearby shelf. Then he returns with a little tube, and he sits down and opens his mouth wide. He splits the tube in half, a tiny brush protruding from it, and he glides that wand slowly across his bottom lip. Sam watches, mesmerized, as Frodo’s rosy lips are given a sheer shimmer that picks up the light. When he’s completed the circle, he smacks his lips together and smiles, glittery and glossy. Trust Mr. Frodo to find a way to be even _more_ beautiful.

Frodo holds out the tube and offers, “Would you like to try some?”

Sam’s too smitten to answer. He’s busy wistfully staring at his master’s face, his heart beating fast in his chest. Frodo only smiles wider for it. 

He pours Sam a little more tea, and Sam stays until the final dregs are cold at the bottom of his cup.


End file.
